Damon's POV
"Absolutely not."
Gabriel leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself.
"You need a hobby."
Damon didn't even look up from the contract spread across his desk.
"I have one."
"Working doesn't count."
"It does when you're good at it."
Gabriel sighed dramatically.
"This is exactly why every magazine calls you 'The Ice King.'"
"I've never said I liked the nickname."
"But you haven't denied it either."
Damon signed the last page of the contract and slid it across the desk.
"Is there a reason you're here?"
Gabriel grinned.
"I was bored."
"You own a law firm."
"And yet, here I am."
Damon pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You need better friends."
Gabriel pointed at him.
"Exactly."
"You need friends."
A soft knock interrupted them.
Olivia stepped inside with her tablet tucked against her chest.
"Mr. Blackwood, the directors from the Blackwood Foundation have arrived."
Damon stood.
"I'll be there in a minute."
As Olivia left, Gabriel stood too.
"I'll save you from talking about budgets."
"I can handle budgets."
"I know."
"They're just less interesting than annoying you."
Damon smirked.
"I'll remember that."
The conference room overlooked the city skyline.
Several members of the Blackwood Foundation were already seated, discussing preparations for the upcoming charity exhibition.
Arthur Blackwood was there as well, sipping tea as though he had all the time in the world.
"You finally decided to join us," Arthur teased.
"I was working."
"So was everyone else."
The room chuckled softly.
Damon took his seat.
"Let's begin."
The exhibition director stood.
"Everything is almost ready."
"The guest list has been finalized."
"The featured artists have confirmed their attendance."
Olivia handed Damon a folder.
He skimmed through the names until one caught his attention.
Lila Hart
He paused for only a second.
"So the anonymous artist has finally agreed to reveal herself."
"Yes," the director replied.
"She'll attend the private reception before the exhibition opens."
Arthur noticed the slight change in his grandson's expression.
"You seem interested."
"I'm curious."
Arthur smiled knowingly.
"Curiosity is usually where every good story begins."
Gabriel, sitting two seats away, raised an eyebrow but wisely said nothing.
After the meeting, Arthur stopped Damon in the hallway.
"Walk with me."
The two men made their way through the foundation's sculpture garden.
The afternoon breeze carried the scent of roses and freshly cut grass.
Arthur admired a bronze statue before speaking.
"When I was your age..."
"I thought success meant being the richest man in every room."
Damon listened quietly.
"I was wrong."
Arthur smiled faintly.
"The richest man is the one who has people waiting for him at home."
Damon looked ahead.
"I've never really thought about home."
"I know."
Arthur stopped walking.
"But I hope one day you will."
His grandfather's words lingered long after they parted ways.
Later that evening, Damon decided to leave the office earlier than usual.
Victor glanced at him in surprise.
"Going home already?"
"It's only seven."
Victor blinked.
"That's early... for you."
Instead of answering, Damon loosened his tie as they stepped outside.
The evening air was cooler than expected.
"Let's walk."
Victor looked genuinely shocked.
"Walk?"
"Is there a problem?"
"No, sir."
"I've just never heard you suggest one."
For the next twenty minutes, they wandered through the quieter streets of the city.
People passed without recognizing the billionaire walking among them.
A young couple argued over which ice cream flavor to buy.
An elderly man fed pigeons in the square.
A little girl laughed as bubbles floated around her.
Damon found himself slowing his pace.
The city looked different when he wasn't rushing through it.
Warmer.
More alive.
His phone vibrated.
Gabriel
Don't tell me you're still working.
Damon replied with a single photo.
A picture of the city park at sunset.
His phone rang almost immediately.
"You went outside?"
Gabriel sounded genuinely amazed.
"I do that occasionally."
"You voluntarily touched grass?"
Damon chuckled under his breath.
"Goodbye, Gabriel."
He hung up before his friend could say anything else.
Victor stared.
"...Did you just laugh?"
Damon looked at him.
"No."
Victor smiled to himself.
He'd worked for Damon for eight years.
That was the first time he'd heard him laugh over something so simple.
As Damon reached his penthouse later that night, he placed the exhibition folder on his desk.
The invitation sat neatly on top.
He opened it again.
His eyes lingered on one name.
Lila Hart.
He knew nothing about her.
Not her age.
Not her face.
Not her story.
Only that she had created a sketch that had stayed with him long after he'd first seen it.
He closed the folder.
For the first time in years, he found himself looking forward to something that had nothing to do with business.
The exhibition was only a few days away.
And though neither of them knew it...
The first brushstroke of a very different future had already been painted.